Monday, September 8, 2014

Drama at Heathrow Airport!

O.M.G guys! I finally made it to Heathrow Airport! Wow, you have no idea how huge it is until you're actually there! I was reading Outlander on the plane ride.... AMAZING! Although I would not suggest it only because I am so tired right now! I could barely keep my eyes open waiting for my connecting flight. Can you believe it?? I missed my flight to Edinburgh because I fell asleep in the airport chairs! Those things aren't even comfortable!! The Retreat starts tonight! Elliot Ross is speaking! There is no fricken WAY I'm missing him!! Author of Highlander’s Heaven series, Pindrop Silence, and Rival Brothers… Oh yeah I was getting to Edinburgh tonight if I had to walk. It was the most epic face palm I had ever done. I got a flight to Glasgow that would arrive at ten tonight, that wouldn't work but at least I could get to Scotland tonight! I need a drink.

Just my luck, the first vacation I take on my own and I manage to screw it up because I fall asleep dreaming of a hot Scot in a kilt from the 1700s. Well... just wait until you hear about the real hot Scot I met.... (alas no kilt)

I was in the middle of a personal brow beating when I heard, “’cuse me,” a voice beside me startled me. The white wine I was sipping escaped my mouth and dribbled down my chin. Grabbing a napkin beside me, I set the wine down and patted my chin. “Sorry didn’t mean to startle you.”
“No it’s ok,” I answered and for the first time looked at him.
Oh. My. God.
Step aside Jamie Fraser, hello stranger… my eyes trailed up and up and… holy cow he was a giant. Well maybe, I was sitting down and in my knock off Prada’s I was hardly short. Brown eyes set in a pale face with curly brown hair and a grin that made my mind go blank.
“Uh…” I so eloquently said.
“Sorry, I couldnae help but overhear ye,” he said and of course he had a Scottish accent. Geesh, my subconscious rolled her eyes. “You need to get to Edinburgh today?”
I nodded, thankful that I had some semblance of intelligence return to me.
“Well me and my boys are flying out in a couple minutes. We have an extra seat if you want,” he said indicated the three others at the table he had vacated.
I stared at them. One man was much older probably mid-fifties, the other two were about the same age as my handsome stranger. The… The handsome stranger, not mine. What the hell?
“Oh… well, thanks,” I said. “But I have a flight out at eight to Glasgow so…”
“Oh ok, I just thought you might need to get there today. You seemed like you needed to get there soon,” he said.
I couldn’t help but blush. How much had he overheard?
“It’s my first time on vacation by myself and I screwed up,” I blurted out. “Fell asleep and missed my flight.”
He slid onto the bar stool beside me and waved the bartender over.
“Tough break,” he said. “Another for the lady and the same for me.”
“Very good, Mr. Sutherland,” the man replied turning away and filling the order.
“Ross Sutherland,” he introduced himself with a smile.
“Nikki Thompson,” I answered.
“Pleasure to meet you,” he said. “What brings you to our bonny shores?”
“I’m a writer,” I replied.
“Oh, grand, anything I would have read?” he asked.
And there it was the overwhelming feeling of inadequacy. My first and only novel had barely hit Chicago’s bestsellers list despite my publisher’s unending and unfulfilled promises.
“I doubt it,” I answered taking the white wine the bar tender placed in front of me.
“Slainte mhath,” he cheered and clicked his glass against mine. “So, Miss Writer, what’s your plans? Did you just think coming to Scotland would inspire you?”
“Hopefully,” I answered. “I haven’t been very inspired recently.”
“Oh?” He asked taking a drink. “And why would that be?”
I waved my hand dismissing it and took a drink. Hey buddy, I thought. You may be hot but layoff the personal questions.
“Sorry,” he said.
For a second I had a horrible feeling I had said that out loud. Then remembered to swallow the wine that was still swirling in my mouth.
“I shouldn’t be asking so many personal questions,” he said. “Listen if you need a lift to Edinburgh, I’d be happy to provide it. We’ll be in terminal B42. And um… I’m not a sexual sadist or kidnapper if you’re wondering. It’s just I hate to see a beautiful woman upset,” he nodded to me as he slipped off the stool and downed the rest of his whisky. “Rob, put the lovely lady’s drinks on my tab.”
“Very good, Mr. Sutherland,” he answered.
Beautiful? He had called me beautiful… and lovely in that dead sexy accent of his. I realized too late that he had paid for my drinks. When I turned to tell him not to worry about it but thanks, he was gone. I went over to the now vacant table and saw his whisky glass. Picking it up, I smelled it.
Oh my god, I thought. It smelled earthy, peaty, dirty, but oh so lovely. Oh that’s good, I should write that down. Searching for a pen in my purse, I finally found one but couldn’t find a piece of paper.
Desperate times… I quickly wrote on my forearm.
Looking back to the table, I saw something folded beneath a plate. Taking the folded cocktail napkin, I opened it.

Miss Writer, I read in a man’s exquisite handwriting.

Thank you for the conversation, I find you very intriguing. My friends and I are heading to catch my plane. If you would like to get in to Edinburgh today the offer still stands. The plane leaves from B42 in twenty minutes. Take the escalator down and around to the right, you’ll pass the caviar stand and the purfumeria.
                                                                                                                                                                My very best regards,
                                                                                                                                                                Ross Sutherland

I didn’t have time to think about the fact that chivalry is dead and no man would offer what Ross Sutherland was offering without expecting something in return… namely me in bed with him. All I could think about was getting a chance to actually salvage my fiasco of a trip. But you know as my mom always said ‘a failed dress rehearsal makes for a great opening night’. Well, right now, mom, I could use a fricken miracle. 

I mean..... who knew?! I gotta go and make that flight! Talk soon!!


Silent Whispers (c) M. Katherine Clark

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